calloperators (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
calloperators) wrote2019-01-14 05:25 pm
calloperators) wrote2019-01-14 05:25 pm
TEST DRIVE
> Hello, you have reached the 1-800-HOTLINE Test Drive. We are currently unable to take your call. Whilst we put you on hold, feel free to play around for a while...
Waking up
Go downstairs, to the lobby. Meet the others. Don't get attached, and don't mention this call.
The AC is busted and in this hot summer, you probably won't want to stay in your room forever.
Of course, there's much more around here than just the motel. Stepping out and hitting the town will give you plenty to do. There's stores aplenty, but that's nothing to say of the good residents of the stores; your friendly neighborhood bodega cats. They're content to laze around the aisles, though the more playful sorts may swat at your wayward accessories as you pass by.
Don't mind that they seem to disappear - and reappear - with a blink. That's just something cats can do.
Of course you are! There's plenty of places to eat here, but why go to some no-name joint when you can go to McDonalds? They've got burgers, they've got fries, they've got McPizza, and they even have a playplace! ...Though you're probably too old for the ball pit.
Regardless of what you order, if you even order, the cashier presses a small toy into the palm of your hand. Don't you feel a pair of tiny eyes on you?
For fuck's sake, someone only went and killed a guy in the McDonald's parking lot. Maybe his head is smashed in under that chicken mask, or maybe you'll want to check? You could do the right thing and work out who did this, or you could make off with his baseball bat. The choice is yours.
What good's a city that goes to sleep? When the sun goes down, the lights go up. The city becomes aglow with every colour of the neon rainbow, with bowling alleys, nightclubs, karaoke bars, arcades and soon-to-be-extinct roller discos competing for your attention until the sun comes up. You're here, there's no curfew, it's time to make the most of it.
Have something else in mind? Go wild, and party like it's 1989.
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[At Britt's suggestion, Pyro suddenly becomes incredibly panicked and jostles the vending machine even more. Take their glove off? That'd be the end of the world! They shake their head vehemently.
Okay, okay, they can figure this out. They gesture for Britt to keep holding on to the vending machine. Maybe if they pull hard enough in separate directions, they can get unstuck.]
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[Must be some very special glove, he thinks. Putting his back against the vending machine, Britt nods, not liking this at all. This vending machine can crush him easily!]
Pull!
[Without further warning, he tries to push the vending machine towards the wall]
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Mmph mphna mprh.
[Carefully, they get up onto their feet, rubbing their sore arm and looking towards the vending machine. They then crouch down and pick up the second soda can.]
Hrmmhph dnrmmph?
[Pyro opens the can and moves to drink it, except...they're just pouring it directly on their gas mask. The soda itself drips onto the ground. It's fine.]
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[It's so good to step away from the machine and finally get to have a soda in peace. This was more of a hassle than--oh what's going on with you now, weird masked guy. Britt stares, exasperated. The Pyro did all that and got his arm stuck and all...just to waste it? What the hell?]
Can't you just...pop that round part of the mask open or something?
[Guess who doesn't know much about gas masks]
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They then gesture to Britt's soda.]
Hhr yuu gnnrma drhmphk thrmt?
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You sure know how to make a guy not want soda anymore.
[All the blame is on you, pal]
This better have been worth it.
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Dhrmr yhhr hhrv mmm lhgmntr?
[Worth asking if they're here. If they haven't set anything on fire in an hour, they start to get fidgety.]
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...lighters? You ask for lighters?
[He roots through his pockets just in case someone went and planted on him lighters belonging to the very suspicious guy in front of him]
Don't ask me, I don't got them. The guy who brought us here must have them. Kick his ass while you're at it.
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...The guy who brought them here! Of course! Heavy said that if they ever had a problem with what was going on, they could always go find the person and █████ them until they █████████████. That usually works! The only question, of course, is finding the person in charge.
They quickly "down" the rest of the soda--which means they just end up pouring the rest of it onto the carpet--and crumple the can in their hand. Whoever's cleaning this lobby afterwards is going to be pretty upset, but they don't particularly care. They extend a sticky, soda-covered glove to Britt and grab his shoulder. The mask's hollow eye holes burn right through Britt's very soul.]
Mmmphm mm mmphrmm mhrm!
[They gesture towards a door labeled "office"--maybe there's someone (or something) in there?]
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...
No, that doesn't matter. Even if he hid his identity, there aren't that many people here who could be the Green Hornet. May as well burst in too]
Fine. I'd feel better about this if I had a weapon, but I guess if something goes wrong I can grab a chair or something.
[You can't say Britt is a coward -- he does have a bit of a cowardly streak, but that's reserved for when things get real ugly, haha!]
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Hm. The door doesn't budge open. They stop for a moment, staring at the door and scratching their head. Of course it's not that easy. They silently turn their head to look at Britt and make a chopping motion with their hands at the door, as if they were holding an invisible axe.
Let anarchy reign in this motel.]
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[Britt steps back, takes a deep breath, and rushes forward, raising his feet and kicking the door right ahead. It's a lot of noise, and Britt falls to the floor, wincing]
Did the lock break?
[He stands up a bit shakily, because that was a strong blow. Britt has some decent strength, that's for sure]
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They tilt their head to the side, then look back down to Britt in concern.]
Hrrr yuu mmhhky?
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[What kind of vigilante would he be if that was enough to injure him, hah]
Doesn't seem like anyone has been here for a while.
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--Wait. They freeze for a moment, then gingerly take out something small. Something square....
It's a matchbook. They look as if they've just won the lottery. They immediately sit on top of the desk and feverishly try to light one of the matches, striking it against the matchbook. A small flame flickers and grows. They stare straight into the match, watching as the flame moves hypnotically.]
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[What a thing to say to the Pyro, Britt]
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They giggle ominously as they...reach out to light the curtains with the match. Um. You wanna step in, Britt?]
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Hey! You gonna kill us all if you burn this place down!
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They stare into the very fiber of his being. Calculating. Judging. Their muffled wheezing grows louder.
After about ten seconds, they sit down on the ground cross-legged and decide to stare at the match in their hand. But occasionally, they'll glance up at Britt, and he can feel their eyes burning into his flesh.
Pyro will remember this.]